“They can’t hurt you,” I say. “They’re only ducks. If they flap at you, flap back.”
They can’t hurt you, Sweetie… They’re only ducks…
…
…
“Larry?” Mitch’s voice penetrates. “Larry, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I… A memory just surfaced. I… did do this when I was small. My mother was with me…
Brown eyes…
A mop of curly hair…
A smile…
Mitch’s face lights up. “Really? You’ve just remembered that?”
“Yes…” I haver, rubbing at the back of my head, trying to unearth more of the memory…
Abruptly, something splashes into the water. Ducks scatter and lift, raucous with protest and panic.
Cara yells a complaint. Mitch hunkers down, calming her and Adam. Other kids start bawling. Adults mutter, looking around. Women stoop, picking up toddlers. Men turn and scan, searching for the sourc
